


The Wreck of The Eastborough Red-Eye

by RoryKurago



Series: Dog Soldiers [3]
Category: Dog Soldiers (2002), Howl (2015)
Genre: Gen, Twins, we're going on a wolf hunt (we're going to catch a big one)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29462979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoryKurago/pseuds/RoryKurago
Summary: Cooper spits out his toast and sits up to read the article again.
Relationships: Lawrence Cooper & Harry Wells
Series: Dog Soldiers [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103828
Kudos: 1





	The Wreck of The Eastborough Red-Eye

**Author's Note:**

> 100 Themes: #23 - Inspiration

The wreck of the Eastborough red-eye was what finally dragged Cooper out of his funk. A clickbait-esque article cropped up in the Sunday edition of the same rag that had run his own story. He sat up spitting toast and tea.

Sam sat up in his cubby under the kitchen sink and whined. They’d been living in the cottage for two years. This was the first time his defacto master had reacted like this.

Cooper waved him back to his nap and leaned over to re-read the article.

He’d met the Sarge’s twin just twice:

Once at a section barbecue which happened to coincide with the sergeant’s thirty-sixth birthday, and again at the memorial service.

The third time didn’t count as a meeting, because Harry was gravy in a body bag and Cooper only talked to dead people he liked. (Joe bitching about the footy; Bruce asking if Cooper still thought self-destruction was for drunk birds and dickheads.)

At the memorial, Al had stood on Annie’s far side—away from Cooper. Keeping clear of the crazy. Clear of the Army lads he’d never liked. He’d slammed Cooper in the press when they chased him for comment, and never been complimentary of his brother. Twins, yes, but he’d always called Harry a lunatic for signing up. Crazier again for staying in, once the glamour of bombs, birds, and berets wore off.

Harry had never looked back. Not even at the end, cigarette lighter in one hand and intestines in the other. So Cooper and Al had never seen eye to eye. Particularly where it left Annie a widow.

So Al had kept his distance at the funeral, and Cooper his own thereafter. Partly it was respect, partly desire to keep the freedom of movement the psychs had allowed at last. If Cooper remembered correctly, the brothers had been estranged since Helmand, when Sarge came back intolerant and Al got mouthy over the Christmas roast.

It was enough that when Annie had moved to Manchester and Cooper got out of the loony lock-up, he’d never sought Al out. Not even to return the ID tags Annie had given into Cooper’s care. To hell with the bastard; it wasn’t him Sarge had self-destructed for. Even if he did have Sarge’s face.

But here was an article in the gossip rags Cooper combed for leads, inset with that face. Christ, the universe was stacked against that face.

Cooper had been waiting for the howlers to find him for two years. They hadn’t.

If they weren’t coming to him, he would go to them. He'd blow them to Hell, and Sarge could deal with them there.

Cooper skimmed the article again for info he’d missed: Thornton Forest. Breakdown. Midnight on a full moon.

Then he tipped the tea into the sink, grabbed the go-bag from beside the door and the Range Rover keys from above it. Sam perked up in his cubby. 

Cooper hesitated only for a second before patting his thigh. What the hell; the damn dog had survived the first round. Might as well give him the credit of Round Two. "Come on, laddie. We're goin' a'huntin'."

It was a long wait until the next full moon, but there was a hunt to be found in those woods.

Sarge’s twin had all of five seconds to appreciate that his brother’s lance corporal wasn’t cracked for saying werewolves had eaten the section before one ate him too.


End file.
